


Did You Ever See A Dream Walking?

by vertibird



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amnesia, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertibird/pseuds/vertibird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcade would have preferred meeting his soulmate with significantly less vomit involved. Seeing color at the first touch/contact soulmate AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the sands of time are but a few grains

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially and originally posted on the Fallout Kink Meme. It was a fill for a soulmate AU.

Sitting in the farthest tent in the Mormon Fort, tucked away so he can be easily missed, Arcade reads a pre-war book, the paper becoming more fragile due to the Mojave's climate. He can't tell if it's the lack of light or his two hundred year old glasses that is making it especially trying to read the words. He's read this one several times, and he wishes he were in the Boneyard so he could get lost in the Followers' library rather than rely on the small collection he and a few other brought along with him to New Vegas. He's gotten used to Freeside enough by now, and people here either ignore him or give him a polite greeting when they see him. It's easy to disappear here, either by death or simply by not wanting to be found. That's why he's out here with the Remnants, even if the NCR has become a much more visible presence around here since the Republic took the dam back in '74.  
  
The Mormon Fort is never a quiet and orderly place to be, but lately, it's been busy for a good reason. Julie has been handing out actual supplies, nothing watered down or diluted to last longer or scavenged. He's also heard plenty of gossip and talk about some courier coming into Freeside and stirring things up (for the good, apparently). Yet it's night, and most people of Freeside are either in the Atomic Wrangler or keeping one eye open while they sleep.  
  
The book's pages become illegible when it talks about ocular color implants. The majority of people now believe the Great War caused humanity to lose their ability to see color, a punishment either from a deity or due to radiation (he remembers even some fellow medical students from the Followers believing the radiation explanation). Yet neither are true as this phenomenon occurred well before the Great War, but only a few know that. Only a few gain the ability to see color these days, and before the War, no one probably waited on chance. It was almost standard procedure to perform the ocular implant surgery when a child was old enough.  
  
His parent's generation, who hailed from the oil rig, all had the surgery performed. He wasn't old enough for the surgery before he fled with his mother from Navarro, so he's just like the majority of the Wasteland in that regard. It makes it just a bit easier to blend in, and he doesn't have to badly lie about lacking ocular implants, something the NCR and the Brotherhood used to distinguish Enclave runaways from the average wastelander. Not that they do it much anymore, not since the Legion became public enemy number one by the Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel lost Helios One.  
  
It's a good time to call it a night and get some sleep. There haven't been any major late night emergencies in a while, which most of the Followers have been taking as a good sign and that Freeside is improving.  
  
He closes the book he was reading, putting it on a stool. He yawns as he gets up, just about ready to make preparations for bed. He hears some noises, some banging, but that's expected of Freeside so he ignores it. Then he hears more stumbling, loud footsteps, but before he gets the chance to react, someone lands face first onto the ground of his tent.  
  
This isn't the first time something like this has happened. He'll just get Beatrix to help him pick up whoever this is off the floor and get them into one of the tents to sleep it off.  
  
“Can you get up?” Arcade asks whoever this is, sighing into his words.  
  
He hears a groan, and the person, a man, uses his palms to push himself up so Arcade can see his face. “Y-yeah, sure.” The light isn't the best in the tent, but this person's labored breathing, they aren't in the best medical condition.  
  
The Follower doctor in him says he should help this stranger up, get him to water, give him a quick look over, and then get him a spare bed in one of the tents. The tired human side of him wants to get one of the guards to help the stranger out of his tent, passing him along to another Follower so they can address and deal with this man.

This is why he picked this tent, so he could avoid this sort of stuff.  
  
“If you're able, you can sit in this chair and I'll get something to help alleviate some of your symptoms temporarily.” The other man seems steady enough, wobbling a little, gripping the chair nearby as if the floor underneath him is shaking. Arcade feels kind of bad that he doesn't help him into the chair but too late for that.  
  
“Thanks.” The words are slurred, and this is starting to seem more than just some Jet addict overdosing or a drunkard walking into his tent by accident. Yet it could still be those things, especially considering this is Freeside.  
  
As Arcade gets some Fixer from one of supply bins (it's rarely this full), he's still tempted to ask someone else to take over. He sees a few interns that could easily deal with such a case, probably a lot more enthusiastically and with better bedside manner than he could.  
  
Yet he doesn't, and he returns to the tent, seeing his new patient hunched over the chair, curled up. “I got you some Fixer. It should make things a little easier, but it would be good to know what you took to end up this way.”  
  
Arcade offers him the Fixer, and instead of the expected snatching of it, a shaky hand takes it. “Dunno. I took a little Med-X in the morning, but not much.” He points to his head, and that's when Arcade sees a recent head injury, stitches that look to still be healing. “Uh, maybe a Mentat or two, no Psycho or Jet.” Arcade watches as his new patient scrambles to ingest the Fixer. “Went to the Atomic Wrangler – the Garrett twins owe me for doing some jobs for 'em. Had a few drinks there, nothing too strong, not Mojave strong anyway.”  
  
“There's a chance someone could have spiked your drink to ensure an easy mugging.” Arcade knows this has happened plenty of times, and the drugs put in the drinks are usually cheap, effective, and have terrible side effects.  
  
“Mug?” He laughs at Arcade's theory. “No, if that's true, more like kill.”  
  
“Well, that too, I suppose.” With that information, Arcade has an idea on what to do next. He'll take his pulse, ask one of the interns to keep an eye on him, and then go off to bed. Then the next morning he'll ask if he's alright, clearing his mind and conscious.  
  
Well, that's how it's supposed to happen.  
  
Instead of that happening, his new patient vomits on him. Then in the first time in his life, Arcade Gannon no longer sees things on the gray spectrum. There are colors, colors he can't label because it's too much to take in (and vomit on his coat is not an issue). No, it's the fact he's naturally acquired the ability to see color, which only means one thing.

Arcade can't sleep, not when everything around him now has actual color to it, not shades of gray (he's stared at trivial objects for minutes on end like he's never seen them before). Then there's the reason he can see color sleeping on the floor of his tent, a blanket over him. He's shaking, recovering from some sort of poison. After vomiting on him, this stranger has been in and out of consciousness. Arcade watches over him, hoping this doesn't play out like some Greek tragedy of two soulmates finally meeting only to have one of them die (and Arcade hasn't even gotten his name yet).  
  
Yet he could see that happening to him, not that he wants that to happen. He's not a lucky person, so he's always cautious, always seeing something 'good' or 'lucky' as a tragedy in sheep's clothing.  
  
Like Arcade even knows what a soulmate means these days. People fall in love and get married to people that are not their designated soulmates and live happy lives. Just because it's some biological effect, heavily outdated and superfluous, does not mean he's destiny bound to fall in love with this stranger of a man. Maybe it was needed once, but not anymore, and not for him.  
  
At least he repeats to himself.  
  
The more time passes, the more anxious he becomes. Most people in the Wasteland do not know how people naturally gain the ability to see color, lost to time. How is he going to tell someone who he just met they are soulmates and that's why they've both gained the ability to see color? That or even explain what a soulmate is, a complicated subject enough. He's never prepared himself for this conversation nor expected it to happen once he passed his early twenties. When he was in his late teens and early twenties, he pictured meeting a man in the Boneyard, well dressed and educated, sweeping him off his feet. He wouldn't care about Arcade's familial past with the Enclave because they were soulmates after all, destined to love each other until death separated them. Youth led him to believe something like that for a time, but age and experience led him to believe in something else.  
  
When the sun begins to rise on the Mormon Fort, Arcade feels like he's back in med school cramming under a portrait of Nicole in the Follower's library. He knows it's just not about staying awake at his age, but the anticipation for what is going to happen next. He has no idea what this man is like, but he's far from the Boneyard Boyfriend he had teenage dreams about.  
  
He goes back to pretending to read a book, one he's read before just in case someone asks him what it's about.  
  
“Eddie?” He looks away from the book, seeing the man on his floor groggy, but much more awake than he was most of the night.  
  
“A decent guess, but my name is actually Arcade.” It's probably not the best time to make a joke, but Arcade isn't sure what else to say or do. Is Eddie a friend? A boyfriend? That's going to make things much more complicated if it's the latter.  
  
“No, no...” He shakes his head. “My robot, my floating robot.” Floating robot? Either there is still something in his system, Arcade thinks, or he's just gotten involved with someone who gives their robot cute pet names.  
  
“There wasn't a robot with you when you came in last night.” Arcade's trying to be a professional about this, but he can't help but craft some pet theories on what this indicates about his... soulmate thing. Whatever. “Do you know where you are?”  
  
“He wasn't with me?” He pushes himself enough so he can sit up, his eyes squinting. “And the Mormon Fort, right? Julie said I could come here if I needed doc stuff.” Arcade notices how he assigned a gender to his pet flying robot, which is even a bit more unnerving (attachment, companionship, and fondness).  
  
“You went to my tent instead of hers.” Arcade sets the book aside (also realizing he was holding it upside down). “She probably would have greeted you with a warm smile and some water, but you got me.”  
  
Arcade watches him as the conversation is on hold, the other man thinking clearly about something, possibly trying to recall what happened the night before.  
  
“Not such a bad face to wake up to. I could get used to it.” Is he being flirted with? He _is_. Which isn't totally outrageous, but Arcade isn't expecting that.

“Do you tell that to everyone you wake up to?” Arcade caves just a little, flirting back, testing the waters and seeing how this back and forth feels.

“Not everyone, just ones that help save my life and are easy on the eyes.” Arcade can appreciate his forwardness and charm, it feeling distinctively Mojave in style.  
  
“More flattery,” Arcade laughs. “You must really want something, which I most likely can't help you with, so your flattery will not get you far in this case.”  
  
“I'm not dead, so that's a start.” Arcade can agree with that at least. “But there is something, I guess. Not sure if it's related to this,” he points to his head injury with the stitches, his hand shaping into a form of a gun. “Or some side effect of the shit someone slipped me.” He puts his hand down, but before he does, he mock fires his gun hand.  
  
“Gunshot?” Arcade's tone transitions the conversation back to the doctor and patient format.  
  
“Mhmm,” he hums. “My vision's changed. Not sure how to describe it besides brighter and not so same-same.”  
  
Arcade knows exactly what he's talking about, but he's still not sure if he should say it. He fixes his glasses, trying to think of something to say to stall as he debates the ethics and morality of telling or not telling him the truth. “Well, it's hard to say with a wound of that nature, and we don't have the equipment to give you a proper brain scan here. Usually the occipital lobe-” he pats the back of his head, displaying where it is. “Is where anything vision related concerning the brain is located.” He fixes his glasses again, thinking of more medical things he can info dump to stall. “Yet with major trauma, it's hard to gauge. Then there is actual eye damage or shifting, and who knows what possible things you were dosed with. You'd be surprised at how much toxic waste and chemicals are still out there that we've seen people inject in themselves.” Arcade looks at him, and he's hoping to see someone with glazed eyes, clearly not following his words, but that hasn't happened yet. “Then colors are connected to cones and rods, the retina as well. Or maybe it's the connection, the signaling between the retina-”  
  
“Colors,” Arcade's chest tightens, realizing he's slipped up. “That's what it is, seeing colors.”  
  
“Congratulations are in order then, I suppose. Besides surviving a lethal poisoning.” Arcade can't look him in the eyes, out of guilt and embarrassment. He just wishes this conversation would end soon or that he could stop being indecisive. Yet at the same time, he wants to talk to him and engage with him more so he can understand him better.  
  
“A doc in Goodsprings asked me about seeing colors before, but he said my brain was a real mess, so maybe it needed time to get things to work together again.” Arcade feels like there's no longer a deathclaw behind his back. At least for now.  
  
“Possibly.” Being a bad liar like himself, Arcade depends on vagueness or sarcastic deflective truths.  
  
This new stranger in his life tries to get up, wobbling a little, but before Arcade can help him find his ground, he's no longer teetering. “I should get going. Got a floating robot to find.” When they make direct eye contact, their physical proximity no longer medical related, Arcade feels something. He can't describe it, and thus he makes himself push it down as far as he can. “Thanks again. Maybe I'll see you around while I'm around here?”  
  
“You might. I don't leave the Fort much, or even this tent, so...” He wants to hit himself for sounding so pathetic, but he has to remind himself he is rather pathetic. “Just don't come to me if you're almost dying. I'm not so great at that 'watching and worrying all night' thing.” His nerves let that confession slip, and Arcade sees that smirk on his face.  
  
“Worried, huh.” He looks victorious like he's conquered and claimed a part of Arcade.  
  
“Standard professional and medical protocol; empathy and guilt are quite the motivators.” He's back to being defensive, but it doesn't work this time.  
  
“We'll see.” He leaves the tent, and Arcade is still trying to gather his thoughts, sort his emotions before his brain crashes.  
  
It's about thirty minutes later, as he tries to distract himself by reading, that he never even got his soulmate's name.

Eventually, Arcade does learn his name through Julie, who seemed relatively happy and surprised Arcade had taken an interest in him, in 'the Courier' or 'Six'. He doubts someone would actually name their child Six, but as he thinks about it more, he's heard strange names, fake or real. In this case, he's very sure it's a title this man has fashioned into a code name.  
  
It's three days since he's seen Six, and he's much better at seeing colors. Julie has a few suspicions that something is new about him, but he's been able to avoid more questions by asking her about Major Kieran.  
  
In one of the few times Arcade leaves the Fort, he comes back only to be told by Julie that the Courier, Six, was here and Arcade just missed him. Julie mentions he was looking for Arcade and asked about him.  
  
“He said he would be back in a few hours, at the most.” She tells him, and Arcade isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing. “I hope you don't mind I told him about Dr. Henry; it seems like he's determined to help the poor dog out.” It was a slip of the tongue by Arcade as to why Julie knows about Dr. Henry, a mistake he hopes to not repeat again.  
  
“It's fine. They're rather rare these days.” Cyberdogs remind him of the Enclave, of experimentation that tested humanity and morality. “It'd be sad to see another one lost to time.” Julie looks relieved at hearing Arcade tell her that, but anyone poking around Doc Henry isn't the best thing. After all, only very few have any experience with cyberdogs, the NCR never getting a good grasp at understanding their anatomy and physiology.  
  
A dog bark ends their conversation, and at the gates of the Mormon Fort, Six walks with two things that remind Arcade of the Enclave.  
  
“Julie,” Six greets her first. “Arcade.” He smiles at Arcade, but he still has a lump in his throat as he's processing how someone ends up with both an eyebot and a cyberdog of all things.  
  
“Welcome back, friend. Did you tell the King about Rex?” He nods at Julie's question.  
  
“Yeah. I'm going to make the trip up to Jacobstown.” Six raises the arm with the pipboy on it. “I got it marked on my map.”  
  
“Do you need any supplies? I might have a few to spare I could sell you.” He shakes his head.  
  
“More like I have a few to drop off; I stocked up already, maybe a little too much to carry around.” He probably doesn't know it, but Six is appealing to Arcade's charitable heart without even trying.  
  
“Then maybe I can offer you something else.” Julie looks at him, and he has a feeling he knows where this is going.  
  
“What? Don't tell me I'm on the same level of a stimpak or some Med-X, Julie. I'm at least a super-stimpak.” Could she be picking up there's something going on between them? Even if that something is mostly extreme uncertainty and mental gymnastics on Arcade's half.  
  
“If you want to go. I'm sure Dr. Henry would like to see you again. I heard it's lovely up there around this time, even some snow if you're lucky.” That might be Julie's subtle push saying he should take advantage of this opportunity and get out of the Fort.  
  
“You know the doc that can help Rex?” Rex barks at that, and even the eyebot reacts.  
  
“I do,” it's awkward to admit that. It's too close to what he's tried to keep private and distant. “Not very close or anything, but I know of him. My mother knew him through friends of friends.” It always feels like a game of 'how vague can Arcade Gannon be without being called out?'.  
  
“Well, if you want to come along, I'd love the company, and I'm sure Eddie and Rex would appreciate it.” Arcade has to recall that name, and he remembers Six describing a flying robot from earlier. It's actually sort of embarrassing that Arcade didn't know it could have been an eyebot earlier. Yet they are extremely rare these days, and he's never seen one this far out east.

“Um, well.” He doesn't exactly have a good excuse not to go. He also sees the look Julie is giving him, a mixture of concern and trying to get him to go. “Sure, I guess. Just so you know I can't bandage well while being shot at or physically in danger.” He could use this trip as an opportunity to get to know Six better, to see if this soulmate thing isn't just some cruel joke or something that could possibly be prosperous.  
  
After all, he barely knows him, and Arcade figures step one in deciding if he should even bother with the soulmate thing is getting to know who the stars have written to be the love of his life. If things do work out, a conversation about it is a lot easier to bring up if they know each other better versus face and name recognition. The biggest issue, though, is Arcade opening about himself, he knows that. For now learning about Six will come first.

  
“I wouldn't blame you.” Six seems glad to have him around, but he's probably assuming having a doctor around is akin to a portable hospital (a grievous mistake).  
  
“Just one thing.” Arcade looks at the eyebot and the cyberdog. “Are you sure that eyebo-, robot thing, isn't going to turn on us? I mean you. You can never trust robots.” His thoughts were scrambled before he even spoke, but it sounds much worse now that he's said it.  
  
“Uh,” Six looks confused, Arcade expecting no less. “Eddie's good and friendly.”  
  
“Right. Just don't expect me to patch you back together when it turns you into a pile of ash. Then said ashes are blown away by a vertibird scooping down to collect your robot friend here. ” He mostly mutters to himself, and by the awkward silence and Six's face, he just made this conversation extremely awkward.“Okay then. I guess I'm ready whenever you are. I just need to bring a few things.”


	2. it is harder to touch your dreams

After packing a few things, they set off toward Jacobstown. Arcade hasn't been there in a long time, but he knows there is a Followers' safe house on the way there. He tells Six this, and they decide they'll spend the night there if it gets too dark to climb up to Jacobstown.  
  
So far Arcade has been trying to start a few conversations, but all of them are short lived. It seems like Six can hold a longer conversation with an eyebot and cyberdog than Arcade can hold with him. He wonders if it's due to him, that they really aren't that compatible. He doubts Six would love to talk about pre-war economic policies and governments at great lengths, something Arcade could do for hours if left unchecked.  
  
There's also the burning need for him to know Six, from basic life data to random things like what's his favorite food, if he's a morning person, or if he prefers sunsets to sunrises. Most of these things normally wouldn't matter to Arcade, but maybe it's him thinking the more he knows about Six, the more he'll feel comfortable with making a judgment call on if he should tell him about the whole soulmates thing. He's done good enough, survived, this long. Soulmates are a superfluous thing for a human, like an appendix, but hopefully with less exploding and infection. Plenty of people settle down and have fulfilling relationships without finding their designated soulmate.  
  
That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.  
  
Arcade makes the call that they should probably stay the night at the Followers' safe house, Six agreeing to it because the sun is already setting. They made good time, but traveling at night is not only dangerous, it's much easier to lose one's way. Arcade's not exactly the most Mojave worn and doesn't know anything outside Freeside and New Vegas proper that well.  
  
The safe house is empty, but there are signs someone has been here recently to keep supplies well stocked. The first thing Six does is find a bed, lie down, and have his new cyberdog and eyebot cuddle with him of all things. Six laughs at their signs of affection, petting them like they're normal pets rather than high grade weapons. Six catches Arcade staring, giving him a smile that seems too genuine to be something found in the Mojave. “Settle down, Arcade. You've been looking like talking albino deathclaws have been following us since we left the Mormon Fort.”

Is it that obvious? He's not the best at hiding his emotions and how he feels (sometimes he's rather forthright with how he feels and what he's thinking if it touches upon a certain type of opinion).  
  
“Have I?” He asks, sitting down in an unoccupied bed that's next to Six's.  
  
“You don't regret tagging along, do you? It's good to have you around, I like it.” Hearing that Six likes having him around is nice to hear, but it only eases his nerves so much.  
  
“It is rather convenient to have a doctor around, and I'm not the worst at shooting things even if my glasses are two hundred years overdue for new lenses.” That's why he assumes Six asked him to tag along with the fact he knows Doc Henry.  
  
“That's a good thing, but having good company to talk to is better.” Six sees him as good company? And what he perceived at terrible attempts at conversations were actually good things? “I like listening to you talk about all that interesting stuff.”  
  
“ _Interesting stuff_ ,” Arcade parrots. “Trust me, I'm far from interesting. You'd get more interesting stories from a Freeside junkie rather than some tangent on the ethics of Poseidon Energy's conglomerate tactics.”  
  
“Both can be interesting, but I don't have a Freeside junkie as a traveling partner, just you, and I find you pretty interesting.” Arcade likes flattery, compliments, and things that feed his ego and self esteem. If Six is trying to warm him up, it's working. “I'd like to know more about you, how you ended up working at the corner tent at the Mormon Fort of all things.”  
  
Arcade knows he can't tell Six the truth right now, so he has to come up with something that's true and vague, but doesn't sound he's dodging way too much. “Well, I was born out west,” the name of the place rings in his mind, but he doesn't say Navarro. Even the younger generation and not well informed know about Navarro being a bastion of the Enclave. “My dad died when I was young, and so it was my mother and her friends who mostly brought me up. We traveled, a lot, and I eventually joined the Followers because it seemed like the right thing to do. They taught me about medicine and research, but me knowing Latin was just a side hobby of listening and watching too many holotapes. I had a habit of getting lost in the Followers' library in the Boneyard.” He makes eye contact with Six to see if he's actually listening or not, and it looks like he is, so Arcade continues.  
  
“What else? I decided to go into research, finding alternative treatments from things commonly found throughout the Wasteland. It's not going anywhere just now, but research in this day and age isn't easy. I like research enough, and I'm not the best with working with people, so it's a double bonus Julie assigned me to research at the Mormon Fort.” The transition into his next line isn't nearly as succinct as the others are. “My mother passed away, so I guess that keeps me inspired to help find treatments for common illnesses that were once easily treatable and curable before the war but now are deadly.” He stops talking, feeling like if he keeps on going, he might slip up. “... and you? I may like to talk, but I'd like to hear about you besides you being a courier with a gunshot wound and amnesia. That's far more exciting and fitting of the Mojave, I think.”  
  
“You're more interesting than you let on.” Arcade knows he's interesting, well, his past and background are, but the Arcade that he presents himself as has to be ordinary, someone who blends in. “Some robot dug me out of a grave, a doc in Good Springs patched me up, and I need to get a package back from a man who shot me in the head and scrambled my brains like a gecko egg omelet.” Six uses his right hand, gesturing the gunshot to his head. Six's eyebot makes a sorrowful beep to accent the sad story. “Benny's the guy I'm looking for, and he's probably the only one that has more information about me, and maybe whoever hired me, them too. This House guy.” That's a pretty short, much shorter than Arcade's spiel. Yet hearing he's involved with House is a red flag.

“I'm probably from out west, too, maybe north west. There are records of me traveling all over NCR territory, so I'm not new to the courier thing. I know some words in several tribal languages, enough to get by, but not sure if I'm from a tribe. Some say I have an education like something out of Vault City, so who knows where I come from and what I used to be beyond a courier. Not sure how much it matters for now.” Even if Six sounds nonchalant and comfortable talking about such things, Arcade can see the dark edges of what Six is talking about. He doesn't remember his parents, who he originally was, and Arcade can't help but wonder if he wants to regain his memories or at least learn about his past.  
  
Would it be too invasive to ask?  
  
“So... your memories.” He's going to see how this line of questioning goes before asking a heavy question. “What sort of things do you remember? Amnesia comes in several forms.”  
  
“I think I remember stuff I learned, was taught mostly. Yet there are some basic facts, like what the NCR and Legion are, I needed a refresher on, but I had gut feelings about them both if that makes sense. If someone brings up a place or name, it feels familiar, but I don't know if there's a connection or why it feels familiar. I don't know about faces since I haven't run into who knew me yet, but I will.” The last part of what he says, that 'I will' sounds like another person says it, and Arcade feels like this conversation might turn very dark very soon.  
  
Yet it doesn't go that way.  
  
“My favorite number is thirteen, and my favorite food is brahmin steaks – medium rare only – with fries.” Of all the things the topic could have shifted to, but Arcade is relieved. Maybe Six sensed how uneasy Arcade was feeling a moment ago. “I think I might have had a grandpa named Bones or something like that, so I have family somewhere out there.”  
  
“I hope you'll find him and your family.” He knows his words are half hollow, but he wants to say something nice. Not just because he wants to be polite or on his good side, but he truly does want Six to get that happy ending of being reunited with his family. Maybe he has a lover back home, but most people know attractive couriers leave a trail of broken hearts wherever they go – Six is probably no different (so he tells himself).  
  
“Same here, but making friends along the way helps.” Six gives him the biggest grin he's seen in quite a while. “I got Eddie, Rex, and now you.”  
  
Adults from New Vegas don't smile like Six does – they're too worn down by poverty, hardships, fighting, and power games. It doesn't come off as naive or innocent, but instead, inspiring and hopeful.  
  
He smiles back, just a little. Maybe.  
  
“We could start our own act at the Tops when we get back. We'd make a fortune.” It seems Arcade's joke is a hit, both of Six's totally-not-Enclave-connected companions seem amused along with Six laughing.  
  
“Don't tempt me. You might make me retire early and settle down.” The joke of a statement develops into something else in Arcade's mind, now seeing a scenario where they do such a thing, and the two of them are happily living together somewhere.  
  
Arcade sleeps well enough, better than the past couple of days. Yet he's been thinking about his newest traveling companion and soulmate most of the night.  
  
Six is already awake, munching on some food rations the Followers stock in the cabinets. Arcade doesn't get up from the bed just yet, but he puts his glasses on. He watches a scene of Six feeding Rex unfold, not sure if the cyberdog or the human is enjoying the whole thing the most.  
  
“There's plenty of food in the cabinets if you want something to eat.” He does, as while he doesn't feel fully rested, he must have fallen asleep before eating. “Should probably get something in your stomach before we leave.” Watching a cyberdog eating out of Six's hand and an eyebot beeping like it wants some attention seems more fictional than real to Arcade. The entire thing seems so normal to Six, nothing out of the ordinary like he's been doing this most of his life.

Oddly enough, in that moment, Arcade realizes why Six has such an appeal to him. It's more than just looks or simple charms (his personality isn't exactly too shabby either), but he reminds Arcade of a concept: New World Hope, starting again no matter what and not letting the past chain you down. He finds it amusing as he's been known to get lost and stuck in the scraps of the Old World – people call that Old World Blues.  
  
They hit the trail back to Jacobstown not long after Arcade finishes eating and gets ready. The scenery around this part of Nevada (he remembers that name, and he wonders how many average wastelanders know its proper name) is breath taking. Surrounding him is proof nature and Earth hasn't given up, New World Hope, and off in the distance, the view, ruins of the Old War aren't fairing nearly as well.  
  
It's colder as they get closer to Jacobstown, his hands in his coat's pockets, his arms right up against his body as an attempt to keep his body slightly warmer. The type of cold here is different than desert cold and Boneyard cold; it's like the cold passes through his bones rather than surrounding him. He looks at Six, who seems to be dealing with the cold well enough. The eyebot is following behind him, picking up old radio signals with more interference and static than yesterday. The cyberdog is keeping up the pace, walking between the two of them.  
  
“Cold?” He's asked, and at least it's with a smile.  
  
“A bit. Not so bad. I've been far worse. I won't be turning into a popsicle anytime soon. That would require a cryolater and decent aim. Though, if we're talking about human popsicles, dipping me into liquid nitrogen would be more effective.” Arcade has a feeling his joke has fallen flat by the expression he's receiving.  
  
“What's a popsicle?” When Arcade hears that question, all the previous thoughts from before suddenly vanish. He's not thinking about the whole soulmate thing, his destiny tied to his, or overthinking five thousand other things.  
  
He's just thinking about how the hell does he describe a popsicle to someone. He isn't seeing Six under the lens of being his soulmate.  
  
“I, well, they're cold and frozen.” After saying that, he almost immediately berates himself at his poor choice of adjectives. “They're a dessert. Frozen liquid, fruit flavored. They're sucked on, sometimes causing brain freeze – which, by the way, doesn't mean your brain is actually frozen. It's just the sensation because the blood vessels around the roof of your mouth are constricting due to the cold.” The long winded response is returned by an expression Arcade can't quite make out. “Which hurts. So a trick is to push your tongue against the roof of your mouth. My mother taught me that – not the Followers.” Him doing all the talking doesn't feel ak awkward or unnatural as before, but he still tries to read body language and facial expression for cues. “They can be quite messy. Melting and whatnot, sticky hands as a result.” He's glad he restrained himself from using hand gestures to display how to eat them as he feels silly enough already.  
  
“Do they taste good?” Of all the questions Six asks him, it's something he completely forgot to address.  
  
“They're supposed to, but that depends on preference. They were a popular treat during hot summer days in the Boneyard when I was there. I think Vault City is the only place that has them year round.” The memories flood back into his mind, of younger days and stained white shirts.  
  
“Think the Strip has 'em? I've been told there's lots of fancy tech in there.” While he hasn't spent too much time there, not entirely by choice, he has heard of intact technology House has been using to secure his hold on the Strip.  
  
“Possibly. I'm sure they have the means to, but the motivation might not be there.” Being a dictator doesn't leave time to encourage popsicle making, he thinks. “House is far too busy trying to prop up his Old World reenactment for that.”  
  
“I'm sure I'll find someone who's motivated or make someone motivated.” Six's words don't mirror his easy going tone. “Then I'll get one for me, you, and Rex here.” The eyebot beeps slowly, signaling its unhappiness. “Sorry, Eddie. I don't think a popsicle would be good for your hardware.”

In a brief moment of reflection on this whole conversation, Arcade has had a number of these random topic conversations with him. They feel natural, and it's becoming harder for him to keep his emotional distance from him. He knows it's not the topics that are causing this, but a spark of a connection. He has friends and enough past lovers, but something is different this time.  
  
“And since you're cold.” Arcade must have been lost in thought longer than he can tell, Six offering him a scarf. “Keep this with you as long as you need it.” Conventional wisdom and his mother teaching him manners make him accept the offer.  
  
The scarf smells of gunpowder and nuclear waste, and he knows it's handmade and not a remnant of the Old World by its quality. It has character to it, a story and a home. He's trying not to look outwardly too sentimentally attached to this scarf or too strange by smelling it. The thing is, this man is still a huge mystery to Arcade, and asking invasive questions is much harder than speculating. The elements of this scarf could possibly yield more insight into him if met with proper follow up questions.  
  
Is it biological, rooted from them being soulmates? Or maybe it is a mixture of mind and body, a placebo effect from him overthinking the concept of soulmates. Either way, he's smiling and genuinely happy.  
  
“The Pipboy says we're only a few miles away if that's any encouragement.” The reassurance they're approaching helps Arcade think about the condition of his feet but doesn't do much to slow down this overthinking and speculation.  
  
Their conversation dips into small bursts of small talk as they get closer to Jacobstown. If it weren't for the smiling and laughter he gets out of Six, he'd think the small talk was derailing rather than effective.


	3. the shadow of darkness arrived before you

  
Up ahead he can see a large billboard that has been painted over with Jacobstown on it. The large lodge looks mostly the same as the last time he was here, but this time there's a bit more snow.  
  
Arcade wouldn't call himself prejudice or biased against most of the inhabitants of Jacobstown (especially considering how 'mutie' was practically one of the Enclave's favorite derogatory terms), but he's cautious. The Followers have a history with the Master and his Army, of the Children of the Cathedral and the Boneyard. His own perception of them stems from his disgust of the Master's experimentation on them more than anything.  
  
Six walks straight up to one, and if Arcade remembers correctly, this one is in charge of the town and watches his fellow brethren. Arcade still thinks the fact Doc Henry is here of all places is a twist no one saw coming due to his Enclave roots, but not overall surprising. Doc Henry is a man of science, and Arcade believes this over some sentimental Enclave redemption arc.  
  
He watches Six talks to Marcus, and he knows that because Six is talking to Marcus like it's not a big deal at all. The average wastelander would see a super mutant and run for the hills. Arcade can guess Six can take on a super mutant if it came to it, but there's a comfortable and casual air to this conversation.  
  
Arcade listens to their exchange well enough but doesn't focus on every single word said. So far it's an exchange of names (Marcus and Six) and a friendly tip about the nightkin. He feels like he's fading into the background, merely becoming scenery as the two of them have a rather free flowing conversation.  
  
He could tune out of the conversation, letting himself overthink and over internalize his doubts and worries, but he doesn't. Or well, it doesn't get to that point as the words 'oil rig' and 'nuke' allude to something he actually knows about.  
  
He fixes his glasses, not because he needs to, but he feels uncomfortable and it's a feeble attempt to do something rather than nothing. Everyone, even the eyebot, looks at Arcade (at least it feels like it).  
  
“Itching to get inside?” He wonders if that's how Six truly interpreted the situation or he read something deeper, using this questions as a cover to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation.

“I don't want to be the reason this conversation ends early.” He really doesn't. “Let me go on inside first and see if I can get Doc Henry on our good side.” Arcade briefly pats Six on his right shoulder before walking past him. It's his way of showing reassurance, a thank you for his concern.  
  
He looks back twice at Six and company and Marcus. The first time is twenty or so feet away, and he's able to pick up lingering bits of the conversation and sees a big smile on Six's face while Marcus laughs (seeing a super mutant laugh like that is something). The second time is right before he enters the lodge, the two looking much smaller off in the distance.  
  
The interior of the lodge looks to be more repaired and well built since the last time he was here. There are much more nightkin here as well, and Arcade does his best to stare at the floor and keep his hands at his sides rather than in his pockets. The muttered voicing don't bother him that much, them being fragmented mentions of events that took place over a hundred years ago.  
  
When he enters Doc Henry's make shift lab, it's better stocked than ever before. Instead of an aging ex-Enclave scientist typing away at a computer, he sees a ghoul woman who is humming a tune. He's going to introduce himself, ask for a Doctor Henry, but a familiar voice calls out to him.  
  
“Is that you, Arcade? You're just as tall as your father by now.” He turns around to see Doc Henry holding a stealth boy. “I have a feeling you didn't come here to hear that comparison, though, so what brings you here?”  
  
“You're right.” So far so good, but then he feels like something is clawing at his throat. “My, uh, a friend of mine needs help. In a field of your expertise. His cyberdog is having issues, and they're not many people who have the same background and knowledge in this field like yourself.” He pushes past the awkward beginning, reminding himself he genuinely does want to help Six and the King. “You could brush up your skills, and he'd find a way to return the favor.” Maybe he shouldn't promise this already, but a day or so helping Doc Henry out isn't a bad exchange.  
  
“I don't need to brush up my skills.” The statement isn't said too defensively. “But I do need help with a cure for the nightkin. If he's a friend of yours, he's probably resourceful and educated enough to help.”  
  
“And this is where you have me do all the dirty work.” Arcade doesn't mean to forget the woman from before.  
  
“Much needed help.” Doc Henry walks over to her. “This is Calamity my lab assistant.” She stops typing but doesn't get up from her chair. Arcade offers his hand to her and she takes it. “This is Arcade, a son of one of my old Enclave friends.” He stops looking at Calamity when he brings up the Enclave.  
  
“Did you really need to mention the whole Enclave thing?” He lets go of Calamity's hand, looking at the older man.  
  
“Everyone knows here and they don't care.” Maybe age and seclusion have let Doc Henry feel a lot more casual about his old ties. Doc Henry starts moving to another table, Arcade following him. “Anyway, where is this friend of yours?”  
  
“Last time I checked he was talking to Marcus.” Arcade decides this is a good transition to ask about the oil rig and if Doc Henry knows anything about it. “So, Marcus talked about an oil rig exploding and sinking into the ocean.” He looks briefly at Calamity who is further away now, hoping she doesn't hear them.  
  
"It was probably the Enclave's but I can't say for certain.” Why does he seem more bothered by this than Doc Henry? Or maybe Doc Henry has processed this already and has dealt with his feelings. That or he still holds a grudge against the Enclave for expressing 'scientific ideological and ethical differences'. “There are hundreds of accounts of what happened that day, and we'll most likely never know what truly happened.”  
  
“It's not that. The not knowing part, I mean.” What does he mean? “It was just surprising to hear, I think.”  
  
“Don't overthink it.” It has been a while, but Doc Henry knows that much about Arcade. “Go find your friend and that cyberdog you talked about and we'll talk more.”

He expects the half dismissive tone from Doc Henry, especially since the old scientist seems more interested in his current projects and research than to warmly embrace Arcade and catch up. He's always been like that, as long as Arcade can remember, so he doesn't take it personally.

Exiting the lodge, he sees Marcus and Six sitting down and laughing together. Arcade's seen plenty of strange things with the Followers and living in the Boneyard, but this is a rare sight. Even the most open minded humans are at the very least apprehensive about super mutants, but it's been less than half an hour and they look like old friends. Marcus even pets Six's eyebot, most likely due to encouragement, his whole hand looking like it could grip the robot. If he told anyone back in Freeside he saw this, they probably wouldn't believe him.

Arcade watches them for a few minutes or so, leaning against one of the lodge's pillars. He doesn't want to interrupt them, as they look like they're having a good time, but time is of the essence. When he feels like there's a break in the conversation, he walks over, first noticed and acknowledged by Marcus.

“If you're back out here this quickly, Doc Henry must need him over you.” He knows Marcus means no offense, and it is very true.

“Doc Henry prefers keeping busy with his research, and I know enough about him to not take it personally.” That and he's glad the conversation did not go on too long for him to say something he rather keep to himself at the moment.

“His loss,” Six gets up looking briefly at Arcade before looking back at Marcus. “I'll see you around, Marcus. I want to hear more about that story of you and that tribal in New Reno when you have the time.”

“I'll make the time if you're still up for it.” Marcus replies back as Arcade starts to realize how much of a people person Six is. Or well, a better people person than he is, because long comfortable casual conversation isn't his forte. It's a skill he never let himself practice, so used to being told to keep an unsure amount of distance for an unspecified amount of time.

He is rather sure by now lovers make poor confidants, but could the reverse be true? That a confidant could make for a good lover? That line of thinking is interrupted when Six pats him on the back urging Arcade to walk with him. The eyebot and the cyberdog walk behind them, like it's a conditioned habit by now.

Arcade hangs back in Doc Henry's lab, finding the furthest corner without looking like he's trying to make himself fade into the background. He does try to listen to the conversation happening between Doc Henry and Six, and so far it seems rather routine and not so interesting. Arcade isn't surprised Doc Henry is fine with repairing Rex, something the old scientist used to specialize and routinely do. It's probably a callback of sorts, whether nice or not Arcade is unsure of.

“What's the Enclave?” When he hears Six say that, his body physically reacts, moving and knocking over some lab material.

There's a crash, but nothing shatters. Doc Henry gives him a stern and questioning look while Six looks more like he's reacting to the sound on instinct. “Everything is fine. Materials are fine, I'm fine, carry on. Talk and hash out those details so we can save one cyberdog from his brain turning into goo.” His delivery of those lines are cringe inducing to him, but it seems Doc Henry is too focused on other matters than to bluntly bring up why Arcade is acting so strangely. Calamity comes over to help him pick up and place things back to their original spots. She looks a bit more sympathetic towards Arcade than Doc Henry which he does appreciate.

His heart rate feels like it is erratic before he hears Doc Henry's reply to Six's question. “My old employers that I didn't agree with. We didn't see eye to eye, they made that clear, and soon after the oil rig sank.” He exhales after hearing that, feeling that Doc Henry might have been persuaded to turn down the Enclave talk just a tad due to their previous conversation.

After that, as payment for help, Six offers to help with the nightkin’s cure Doc Henry has been doing. Of course he gets offered up as an extra bonus, something to sweeten the deal unnecessarily. Though Arcade does realize, if Six is going to be gone for a few days to get a dog brain, Arcade would have ended up helping Doc Henry anyway. He rather stay here than go out hunting for a dog brain, even with a recommendation of where to get one.

Six isn’t going to leave until tomorrow morning, though. Arcade figures he would go talk to Marcus again or explore around, but instead, he’s willing and eager to get a head start on collecting research materials for the nightkin’s cure. Which means he’s going to accompany him and hopefully not get attacked by a nightkin with a stealth boy. Arcade is needed because he assumes Six doesn’t have the proper knowledge of what they actually need and how to properly handle and store the materials. Even if Six used a stealth boy before, this is probably different from just flipping a switch on.

Doc Henry tells them someone named Lily can help them out since there are a lot of nightstalkers in the area. Arcade just assumes she’s another research assistant or maybe a mercenary guard.

Instead, well.

“Jimmy?” Arcade stands behind Six who is extremely close to a nightkin who is wearing sunglasses and a sunhat. The bighorners around them appear to be domesticated and much like brahmin.  

“That could be my name, I’m not sure.” Once again, Six seems far too comfortable around what most would fear. “Anyway, Doc Henry said you could help us with the nightkin’s cure.”

“That’s if you, uh, want to help.” Arcade adds to that, far more cautious about their possible new companion. Arcade knows about the nightkin through recorded accounts from the Followers who had got mixed up with the Children of the Cathedral well over a hundred years ago.  

“Of course you do, Lily!” Six seems way too enthusiastic about this. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t remember or know about the history of the nightkin or the super mutants. “I think they’re something special in it for the both of us if we help out.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to make promises you can’t keep to a former, I assume, nightkin assassin?” Arcade doesn’t even hesitate to voice his opinion.

“I’ll always help Doc Henry, deary, you don’t need to sweeten the deal for grandma.” Last time he checked, nightkin don’t have children. Which leads Arcade to speculate how her human memories must be mixing with her nightkin ones. He’s hoping this is a good thing, something that will make communicating her with easier. The other nightkin they’ve seen look at them like they’re the ones that killed the Master.

“Good, then off we go to some cave full of nightstalkers.” Six replies to Lily instead of him, but they make eye contact. Is it some attempt to reassure him? Or maybe a smug ‘look everything is fine’ sort of gesture. Still, Arcade counts it as mild gloating.

Lily takes out a makeshift weapon, and its size is the first thing Arcade notices. The second thing he notices is that it looks… familiar. Daisy would be disappointed with him if he couldn’t identify a vertibird rotor. He can’t say if it’s Enclave in origin, but technically most are because the NCR seized all the working vertibirds left from Navarro when they raided it.

“Arcade,” Six calls out to him, already a good couple of meters away from him. Next to him, following him like they’ve been together for years, are the eyebot, the cyberdog, and now a nightkin. “You ready to go?”

“I’m wondering how many stitches it will take to properly suture nightstalker bites, but sure, let’s go.” He fixes his glasses, and with a sigh, he starts walking and following Six.

He later finds out it takes on average of fifteen stitches for the small bites. Six has a few small bites, but luckily they aren’t so deep. Without Lily, they would have most likely been mauled and poisoned to death within the first ten minutes. They were able to find some stealth boy that Doc Henry needed, so that’s the good thing.

Six doesn’t flinch much at all when Arcade’s suturing him, which means he must be used to this or has a high pain tolerance. Both of those come with being Wasteland worn and experienced, not by staying in a city.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning, but it’ll be a few days until I come back.” Arcade’s suturing skills are rusty, and the line the stitches in are not straight.

“If you need a place to sleep, I know some Followers’ rest stops and outposts you can use. They’re not fitted to treat and see the public, but it’s a decent and safe place to sleep for the night.” He hasn’t used any of them since coming to the Mormon Fort, but he knows where they are as he’s directed other Followers there.

“No, it’s good. I have a place in Novac and I’ll be seeing a friend there.” A friend? Arcade is curious, but knows asking questions will mean he will have to answer more question.

“ _Oh_ , Novac.” The inflection in his voice isn’t something he planned on doing, but something that happens naturally when he recalls memories about the place.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arcade has to think about how to backtrack a little on this. Six doesn’t sound offended, but curious.

“Nothing really. I just know someone there. That’s all. An old family friend.” He’s found telling the truth to a limited and vague degree is the best way to deal with these sort of situations. His lying is terrible, and Six seems to pick up on these subtle things better than he lets on from what he’s noticed.

“I could pass them along a letter from you if you want. It’s the least I could do.” The kind gesture actually catches Arcade off guard. He’s been meaning to talk to Daisy, and actually, seeking some advice or at least talking to her about running into his marked soulmate would be a good idea.

“Maybe.” It’s in that moment Arcade feels the full weight of part of himself being almost entirely alone. He has people and friends within the Followers, but he’s always held back just enough. Julie’s the closest friend he has, but he doesn’t want to give the Followers trouble with his past associations. The NCR is already becoming increasingly less patient and fractured with the Followers over the past decade or so.  

“I promise I won’t open it and secretly read it.” Six must be picking up the shift in the mood, as his voice sounds like playful teasing again, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I’m not worried about that.” Actually he would be, but details.

“Then why not?” He knows Six means it in a teasing way, but Arcade can’t help but put his guard up. He’s no good at personal questions, even worse at accidentally talking too much about himself or what he shouldn’t know.

“Let’s see if I have the time to even write a proper letter. Between suturing you up and being Doc Henry’s newest lab assistant…” That should be a good enough excuse.  

“I’ll cover for you. I’m sure I can do some science-y stuff and run around the lab before I head out tomorrow.” Arcade has to stop himself from sighing at the word ‘science-y’ because he can see Six’s intentions are good and helpful.  

“You make the mistake of assuming Doc Henry will only ask me for help.” Six earns a single laugh from Arcade for that one. “But the thought is appreciated. Thank you.” Their eyes both meet, and they’re both smiling at the same time. Arcade isn’t sure if it’s some soulmate thing, but his body relaxes and some of its earlier tension is released.

_En ego, confiteor, tua sum nova praeda, Cupido;_

They help Doc Henry the rest of the day, but Arcade retires earlier with Six backing him up. For someone who was/is a courier, Six seems rather comfortable with technology and science. The average wastelander would not be able to follow along and keep to task. Not that he thinks Six understood everything Doc Henry was telling him, but he was able to regurgitate it enough that the both of them were impressed. Doc Henry also directly suggested that if Arcade were to ever leave the Followers, he could have a place here. He gave Doc Henry a maybe, only to avoid the topic of his dead parents.

Writing the letter to Daisy comes a lot easier to him, but harder than just words effortlessly written on the paper. He has too many topics he wants to talk about, too many feelings he wants to get out. Yet knowing Daisy, he has a feeling no matter how he phrases his doubt and skepticism, she would encourage him to do what feels right. He apologizes earlier in the letter for his scattered thoughts, and that he does want her advice.

At least he can write the letter in peace, having a rather spacious room to himself. Once in a while he can hear the nightkin and super mutants walking the halls, but besides that, it’s relatively quiet. By now Six must be in his own room preparing to get a good night’s rest for the long trek he has to take to Novac.

Arcade finishes the letter, tucking it into an envelope. He should probably sleep rather than keep himself up for three more hours by reading some text books he found around Doc Henry’s lab. As he’s trying to talk himself out of not reading more pre-war medical textbooks, he hears a knock at the door and Six’s voice.

“Come in.” He gives Six permission, and the door opens not long after.

“Did you manage to finish the letter?” It’s either perfect timing or a planned coincidence. Either way, Arcade gets up from the desk and hands the letter to Six.

“I did. Thanks again. You really didn’t have to, but I suppose since you are going to be in Novac and I did spend an hour stitching you up…” He adds that last part mostly for himself so he feels he isn’t in Six’s debt.

“Sounds fair.” Six puts away the letter, Arcade watching it being tucked away. “Marcus was telling me some interesting stories of his travels. Maybe I’ll tell you them when we head back to Freeside.”

“I look forward to it.” Does he? Maybe a little bit, but this whole conversation is growing increasingly awkward for him. He’s not sure if Six feels the same or Arcade’s thoughts haven’t settled properly after finishing the letter. “Keep safe.”

“You’re not going to wish me luck?” Six winks at him, laughing, and that throws him off enough that he isn’t thinking about how awkward he’s feeling for a moment.

“You survived a bullet to the brain, you have enough luck.” This is his attempt to deescalate the situation because he has a feeling it will lead to something embarrassing. "If you believe in the concept of luck, that is.”

“I think I used up most of my luck on that and getting to meet you.” Six hasn’t flirted with him so brazenly in a while, and while he usually likes the flattery, the lines remind him of what he’s hiding from him. Luck and destiny are not concepts Arcade likes and what he is familiar with.

“You met me because you were almost poisoned to death.” Which sounds more like a Greek tragedy than an idealized fictional romances to him.  

“Yeah, but I lived, and then I met you.” At least Six sees the positive in the entire situation while Arcade mostly recalls the lack of sleep and the smell of vomit.

“Barely.” He responds, and Six takes a step closer to him. Their chests are close together, the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other.

“Still.” Arcade starts to shift away, turning away after Six speaks, but Six grabs onto the folds of his Followers’ coat. “I don’t take it for granted.” All the signs are there, the tense build up, the lack of space between them, the shortening dialog…

Arcade shouldn’t be surprised, but part of him still is when Six kisses his lips. He’s a few inches shorter than Arcade, so he must be on the tip of his toes to reach Arcade’s height. Arcade’s first instinct is reactionary, that he wants to kiss him back because it feels like it’s the most natural thing to do. Besides the physical attraction, there’s something else pushing together. He wonders if it truly is a part of being soulmates or if he truly is that lonely.

To give in or push away.

The decision is made for him, Six ending the kiss and letting go of his coat. Arcade looks at his face, but Six’s eyes look away. He turns away, leaving the room in silence.

A surge of regret overtakes his thoughts, and he wants to clarify that Six’s advances weren’t completely unwanted. He could have handled the situation much better, but instead he froze up.

Arcade spends an hour and a half staring at the ceiling of his room, thinking and replaying the kiss over in his head before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En ego, confiteor, tua sum nova praeda, Cupido; : from Ovid's Amores. Roughly translates into, "Look, I confess, I am your newest plunder, Cupid;"


	4. great dragonflies that spat flame

Six is long gone by the time Arcade is awake, which he finds a relief because that doesn’t mean he as to spend fifteen minutes convincing himself the right thing to do is to address what happened last night.

Luckily for Arcade, Doc Henry keeps him busy and Calamity becomes his casual conversation partner while Six is away. Most of their discussion is relating to research, but it’s friendly in tone. Each day progress is made towards the cure, and seeing Doc Henry so consumed with his work is an encouraging sight; it’s like watching a master do what he loves. He actually learns something new about the older man, that Doc Henry is being extra enthusiastic about this cure. In his younger more inexperienced days, he once gave an FEV related serum to some tribal passing through Shady Sands in exchange for a cyberdog. The results were apparently shameful, so much so Doc Henry considered it a disastrous failure.

The only trouble they’re coming across is actually testing to get proper figures. The test on a dead nightstalker brain failed, and a live subject most likely would be impossible to properly manage with the resources they have here. Doc Henry keeps mentioning how the old lab at Camp Navarro had everything he could have wanted, only to be almost entirely filled with people he couldn’t stand (he of course says Arcade’s parents are exceptions).

It’s late in the night, Calamity already off in bed, so it’s just him and Doc Henry. He’s reading some texts on cadaver brain preservation to see if it could help their situation. All this is not just merely testing his limits, but far more complicated than anything he’s used to. As he flipping through another page on medium sized mammal specimens, something unexpected happens.

“You can see colors now, can’t you?” Doc Henry starts the personal conversation, and he has no idea how the older man picked that up because to him Doc Henry has been so preoccupied with his work. “Even if the Followers were testing ocular implants, I don’t see you as the type to sign up to be a research participant.”

Arcade doesn’t look up from the book, but he’s staring at the pages rather than reading the text. His mind is completely blank, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t need to lie to Doc Henry, there’s no need, but he feels hesitant to say confirm his statement.

“What gave it away?” So he can be more careful about it in the future.

“You noticed the different labels on the gray matter tubes. Only someone who could see colors would be able to distinguish the two.” He recalls that moment, but he had no idea Doc Henry could tell that easily. “So, this recent or?”

“Recent. I think my eyes and brain are finally starting to become adjusted to it.” It’s actually quite remarkable his brain and eyes did not go through a sensory overload and his brain is able to process seeing colors after all this time.

“And your friend, he can see color too.” As if he’s walking Arcade through his hypothesis, he can see where this is going.

“It’s not a coincidence.” Will Doc Henry push for more information? But from what Arcade knows of him, he doesn’t seem like the type to ask those types of personal questions.

“I thought so.” Even without further information, it seems Doc Henry has enough information to end the conversation there.

It’s almost a week later Six arrives back in Jacobstown, welcomed by most of the residents minus the more suspicious of the nightkin. Arcade doesn’t go running towards him, instead still in Doc Henry’s lab, trying to find a way to preserve nightstalker brain tissue well enough that tests can be run on it.

When Six enters the lab, he proudly holds up a bag, showing off his find. “One dog brain ready to go!” He proclaims, walking towards Doc Henry, not even looking at Arcade.

“Good. I’ll get started on the surgery soon.” Doc Henry closes a book and gets up from his desk. “Arcade, help me out. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.” Arcade nods, closing the book he is reading and leaving the research desk.

“It won’t take too long if all goes well.” Doc Henry takes the bag with the brain it from Six like it’s an everyday occurrence.

“Take care of him, Doc, I’m counting on you.” He says that to Doc Henry first, but then he finally looks over to Arcade. He smiles, and Arcade is caught a little off guard since he felt completely invisible just a few seconds ago. Six surely must be talking about the cyberdog, so he insists.

Before leaving the room, Six whips out a letter and offers it to Arcade to take. “It’s from Daisy, and she told me to tell you the answer to your question is yes.” As soon as Arcade takes the letter, Six leaves the room, the eyebot beeping a victorious tune.

Arcade opens the letter, scanning it over once before he reads it quickly. Doc Henry is still prepping the brain, so he has a few minutes to read the letter. Yet it doesn’t take that long to read it, as the letter itself is only a few lines long. Like Six mentioned earlier, the letter reinforces that ‘yes’ answer.

“Arcade,” Doc Henry calls out to him, most likely ready to start the transplant. Daisy’s words ring in his mind as he folds the letter and puts it into one of his pockets.

As expected, she has told him to fly free and not let himself put restraints on himself.

After the surgery, Arcade goes to his room with the intention to relax, so he tells himself, but he knows he won’t be able to. Instead, he spends an hour staring at the ceiling, thinking about what to do and how to do it. He can’t deny the emerging attraction between him and Six, but is it some placebo effect? Or maybe there is an actual force drawing them together? It also could be a natural attraction that has nothing to do with them being soulmates.

Their first kiss, if Arcade can even call it that, resulted in him freezing up. At the time, too many emotions flooded his mind, but before he could even reject them, Six ended the kiss. He wonders if Six felt something during the kiss? Or did Arcade give off a sense of rejection that overrode anything else?

From a logical perspective, he shouldn’t get involved with someone who is out to kill a man and has involvement with Robert House. Though, when is love logical? His life of avoiding most people and difficult tasks is just manageable enough for him. Yet he went on this whole trip with Six, because deep down he does yearn to make a positive change. He knows he can’t be the leading instrument of change, but maybe he can the tune carry and not waver.

He leaves his room but hasn’t made up his mind on what to do. He just knows he has to do something because this stagnation is causing a surge of circular thoughts.

Marcus leaves Six’s room right when Arcade reaches it. He briefly makes eye contact with Marcus, and he feels a little intimated by the other’s stature. Usually, he’s the tallest person in the room, but he actually feels short around all these super mutants and nightkin.

When he enters the room, Six is lounging around on a bed, reading a book. He’s not wearing any armor, his boots off. Arcade focuses mostly on trying to figure out what sort of book Six is reading, but the title isn’t in English or any sort of alphabet he’s familiar with, but characters. Yet with the red coloring and the way the yellow soldier is positioned, Arcade has a hunch the book is Chinese in origin. He remembers seeing Chinese characters in San Francisco, and how a fellow Follower into linguistics told him learning all the characters is extremely difficult unless a person is extremely privileged with access to excellent education.

“I didn’t know you could read Chinese, or well, I never asked, but still.” He stands under the doorway, waiting for Six’s response. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”  

 Six looks away from the book and towards Arcade. He gestures Arcade to come sit on the bed beside him. “I didn’t know I could read it until I found it.” Oh, right, amnesia. “I don’t understand it all perfectly, but I can understand enough.”

 Arcade goes to sit next to him on the bed but keeps an obvious distance between them. “What is it about? If I had to guess, propaganda. The United States used plenty of propaganda in the forms of books and entertainment before the bombs fell.” Arcade’s read plenty of them, too.

 “It’s a military training manual. Most of it is focused on how to properly use breathing techniques for stealth along with using some stealth armor.” Six turns the book enough so Arcade can see it, flipping through some pages with some diagrams and drawings.  

 “Do you mean the Chinese Stealth suit? Stealth boys are based on that same technology, but the American Military and scientists were never able to reproduce it to the same degree. I’m sure Doc Henry would benefit from any insight into these suites this book has.” Arcade has read plenty of pre-war military books, and he can finally use it in casual conversation.

 “I had a feeling. I remember reading something in this manual that was the same as what the Doc said, so I picked it up again to see if it could help his research.” Six noticed that? Maybe he’s far more intelligent than he first thought.

 The added layer of Six being functionally literate in Chinese is something Arcade could waste at least an hour speculating about. He thought Six was more of the street and practical sort of smarts, something couriers rely on far more than intellectual knowledge and theories. If Six has an actual education, that could provide a strong clue as to how he grew up and his background; education beyond forced primary grades is rare outside of the major cities even in California let alone Nevada.  

 “Anything so far?” Arcade’s curious to see what he’s found out so far.

 “Not yet.” That response kills the tempo of the conversation, it now feeling far slower than before.

 “Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Six just nods at Arcade’s response, going back to reading the book.

 When it becomes quiet, the distance between them because even more evident than before. Arcade wonders if it’s just him, that he’s the one sensitive about it. He’s the one that created that distance, so why is it bothering him this much?

 Then he’s reminded of Daisy’s letter, of why he came into this room.

 “Arcade,” he looks at Six who has put the book down and is focused on him. “You all right?” The question is in a more serious tone that he's used to hearing from him.

 Should he say no? That he feels like this thoughts and feelings are so jumbled that all he can do is push them down because he’s not sure what else to do? That he’s not sure if he’s falling for Six naturally or something is forcing them together? That he knows he’s overthinking things but he can’t help but do that because there’s a genuine fear within him?

 “I,” he’s not good at lying and he’s not at telling a truth he pretends is a lie. What does that put him? “When you kissed me, before you left to Novac.” He looks at Six who still is hard to read at the moment. “What happened..." His voice trails because remembering what happens makes the awkwardness of this all sink in further. "It wasn’t a sign of rejection. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

 “That’s good to know, but I didn’t help.” Did he miss something? “When I kissed you, something felt strange. I can’t describe it, but it kind of freaked me out.” Is that why Six pulled away? Did the kiss have a physical reaction because they are soulmates? “I should’ve said something, but my mind went blank. I’m good at running, it’s a courier thing.”

 “What did it feel like?” Arcade tries to remember the sensation when Six kissed him, and he does recall it feel different. The thing is, he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts and reaction any physical sensation was put on the back burner.

 “I can’t describe it besides my brain trying to search for something that isn’t there.” Arcade replaces that ‘something’ with ‘memories’ “Maybe I could explain it better if I tried again.” Is he asking permission this time?

 “A redo would help in several ways and fix both of our egos.” This time Arcade is the one to initiate the kiss, his form of an apology. It’s supposed to be one quick kiss, but Six is the one who extends it, kissing Arcade back.

 In between a breath, Six mutters, “Like memories.” That doesn’t make the most sense, as it’s an abstract term to use, but that’s not Arcade main focus. This kiss is developing into something much more, and that’s extremely evident by the time Six has him lying his back on the bed, hovering over him.

 Six stops kissing him briefly, a hand placing on Arcade’s crotch. Six doesn’t say anything, but he’s done this enough that he’s asking for permission. “Carpe diempeek” Arcade says before they start kissing again. He has a feeling the other man doesn’t understand what he just said, but the tone and body language appear to be enough.

 He’s not surprised how quick Six is with undoing his pants or how easily he’s getting into this. The fingers on his cock are calloused, but the actions themselves aren’t rough and rushed. Usually, Six seems to rush with physical actions, but it’s different this time. Still, it’s nowhere near slow paced love making. He doesn’t expect that, and he’s nowhere near disappointed.

 Six breaks from kissing him again, giving him a wink. That cuts some of the building tension as Arcade feels embarrassed by it. He’s surprised that wink didn’t fully kill the mood, but then he sees what Six is doing. He watches Six move lower, and Arcade feels that tension building once again because he knows what Six is most likely going to do.

 He watches the other man start licking his half-hardened cock, but not so long after, he starts taking in the head and sucking on it. One of Arcade’s hands runs through Six’s hair, a way to encourage him to keep going. Arcade’s louder than he wants to be, especially considering down stairs Doc Henry is probably still at work in his lab. He doesn’t want to even think about their super mutants and nightkin neighbors listening to them.  

 He’s not sure what’s more arousing, the actual blowjob or watching Six suck him off like this. It becomes even more erotic when Six undoes his own pants and starts jerking himself off. Arcade does know he won’t be able to last as long as he would like if he doesn’t start thinking about third declension i-stems. Or he could mentally recite Horace -- that has always worked well in the past.

 He should probably decide quickly, but his mind actually totally comes to a stand still when his eyes’ meet Six’s and there’s this confident, amused look to him. He looks like he’s enjoying this just as much as Arcade is. On the other hand, if he knows himself, he probably looks like he might be panicking. Maybe Six finds that encouraging, as it seems he’s is watching his reactions very closely.

 Six frees his mouth, licking the side of Arcade’s fully erect cock. He laughs once, kisses the side of his cock, and speaks. “I might have thought about this more than a few times during those cold and lonely nights alone during my round trip to Novac.” While Arcade can tell there’s some sarcasm in that teasing, he knows there’s some truth in it.

 The main take away is that Six has been fantasizing about doing this to him, probably stroking himself like he is now, but this time Six isn’t just imagining, he’s actually doing it.

 He starts sucking his dick again, and Arcade says only a fraction of what he wants to say. “And here I was thinking you’d just be satisfied with a kiss.” It’s much harder to sound sarcastic or witty when you’re getting a blowjob, but he manages to pull it off just enough.

 As if his previous words were a taunt, he feels Six take him deeper into his mouth. The hand on Six’s head tightens, and he mutters a warning as his whole face, even the tips of his ears, are flushed.

 Six keeps going, only removing his mouth when Arcade has finished. Six leans up while Arcade feels like he’s sinking into the bed even more so than before. The other man licks the top of his lip and laughs, wiping his right hand on the bed sheets. At least they’re both satisfied in the end, but Six looks like he’s come out on top.  

 He half expects him to say some cliché line or a bad pun connecting Arcade to being a doctor or to him being a courier and package delivery.

 After that, it’s quiet between them. It’s sort of a blur, and he remembers that they dress themselves back up like an automated routine. He doesn’t remember much after Six leaving the room,  Arcade finally able to sleep again without staring at the ceiling and rethinking an entire week’s worth of thoughts.   

 It’s night when Arcade wakes up, and the bed smells earlier activities and decaying nuclear materials. There’s a bedsheet over him, but he doesn’t recall tucking himself. He barely remembers fixing his pants, so maybe he did it while he was sleeping. He’s still wearing his glasses at least, so that makes stumbling around in a room he’s not entirely used to one thing he doesn’t have to do today.

 He freshens up a bit before heading downstairs and towards Doc Henry’s lab. Six isn’t there, but Doc Henry and Calamity are. Arcade gives her a little smile as an acknowledgment but he’s mostly there for Doc Henry.

 “If you’re looking for him, he’s out doing some errand for Marcus.” Actually, he’s not looking for Six, but that’s good information. “And you missed a great break through. I can’t believe I didn’t think of using neuro-peptide stimulators on the nightstalker brains earlier.” The switch towards his research isn’t surprising, but Arcade’s brain is a bit fuzzy still. “What a waste to have such a brilliant mind roaming around the Wasteland instead of pursuing research.” The last part confuses him, as he assumed Doc Henry is the one who eventually figured it out.

 “What? You didn’t think of it?” He can’t imagine Six talking about theoretical neurosciences on par with Doc Henry. Even the Followers rarely produced someone of that caliber,

 “No, your friend did. I didn’t believe it myself, thinking he was just spouting nonsense he got from one of the books we have here, but I thought it over and it worked.” It seems like Doc Henry still in mild disbelief himself. “Arcade, did you ever ask him about his origins or educational background?”

 “Not directly, and he’s an amnesiac, hence his current name.” The question he responds to almost seems parental in nature, but he knows this is more for Doc Henry’s curiosity rather than that.

 “And you believe him?” Doc Henry asking him that question makes him realize he never even questioned if the amnesia is real or not. He knows some basics of amnesia, but nothing much, and it’s not a top priority of focus for him. “By that delayed response I assume you do.” Arcade nods. “I never knew what happened to Dr. Schreber after I left the Enclave, and it’s possible he-”

 “If you’re hypothesizing that he is connected to the Enclave like us, I severely doubt it.” Arcade rather think of a thousand other reasons than believing such a thing. Though, as he lets it sink just a little, wouldn’t that be a blessing in disguise?

 “Dr. Schreber always had a thing for cyberdogs, and here he brings one in.” Arcade doesn’t know much about this scientist outside of him being the former boss of Doc Henry who embodied the Enclave approach to those non-Enclave.

 “Rex belongs to someone else.” It comes off as defensive because he is trying to disprove how wrong Doc Henry is being.

 “And Dr. Schreber did plenty of research on genetics and neurosciences. Even with the Enclave gone, he wouldn’t let his knowledge go to waste. He’d find someone, maybe even a child of his, to be his intellectual heir and accomplishment.” He wonders how much of this is bias against Dr. Schreber or something actually feasible.  

 “He knows how to read Chinese.” That suggestion seems to stop the railroad of Doc Henry backing up his theory. "That's not very Enclave like unless it was a specialization." 

 “I remember hearing the Shi in San Francisco have advanced technology and education.” That seems to spark another theory. “He could come from them. That could also work.” It’s a relief to hear the older man drop the theory of Six originating from the Enclave. “Either way, it’s a waste that he’s out there running errands and delivering mail.”

 That’s the second time he’s said that, and it aggravates Arcade. “It’s not a waste, and he’s not delivering mail. He’s making a difference out there, and while he may not show that side of him often, he makes a positive difference; just look at what he’s done outside of helping you with that one suggestion.” When did Arcade get so defensive when it comes to him? Maybe because he doesn’t like seeing people who are actually doing something good out here be criticized in an unfair manner.  

 Doc Henry has the bad habit of being consumed with his research, so of course the main focus would be Six’s suggestion rather than Six coming all this way to help a cyberdog or Six helping out the inhabitants of Jacobstown. Six isn’t some perfect hero or savior, but so far he seems to be a decent man.

 Before the discussion becomes more heated, or well, on Arcade’s end, there’s a loud whistling. The both of them look towards the doorway and see Six standing there.

 “The problem with mercenaries bugging you should be over.” He approaches them, clearly sensing tension he’s walked into. While intentionally or unintentionally stepping in is the question, Arcade doesn’t ask it.

 “That’ll calm the nightkin down. Keene is still hovering the lab even after you talked him down.” Doc Henry goes back to work, most likely having enough of human interaction for the day. “Since you’re finished, you can come back to working in the lab.” It seems the formality of them as long passed, and orders have become a thing between them.

 Is he being replaced? It seems that way.

 “I have to turn in early since I’m heading to Freeside early tomorrow morning, before dusk.” It’s new to Arcade that Six is heading back to Freeside, but it has been quite some time since they left. His own absence probably isn’t the most notable among the Followers, but he still is an extra hand when there is a crisis.

 “Or you could stay here. There’s plenty of work to be done.” Doc Henry is less than subtle about the proposition. “It would benefit the research and help it progress much more quickly. There’s plenty of things left to do.”

 “You can manage, I’m sure. You just needed a little push.” The persuasion doesn’t work, and Arcade exhales a bit more heavily after hearing Six say that. “Anyway, I need to take Rex back to his owner and Arcade’s needed back at the Mormon Fort.”

 “You could always come back after.” He hasn’t given up it seems, and Six laughs at that.

 “I could, but I got a lot of things to do before I become a lab assistant.” Six walks over to Doc Henry, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Take care, Doc.” Six leaves the room and Doc Henry doesn’t protest.

 Arcade is the one who ends up working late in the night with Doc Henry, and ever so often the older scientist would mention how Arcade should change Six’s mind about staying in Jacobstown. Luckily Arcade’s able to pull some verbal gymnastics and get himself out of that uncomfortable situation.

He goes to bed far later than he planned, and so when Six wakes him up before dawn, he’s barely awake and functioning. He goes through the motions of getting ready, and luckily for him, Six is far more prepared than he is. Rex and ED-E follow behind them as they leave Jacobstown, and the Nightkin from earlier, Lily, gives them a goodbye right before the sun starts to peek over the mountains. When they're far enough, he looks back at Jacobstown and has a feeling he might be entering a turning point in his life.


	5. beasts at a place named navarro

There’s little to no conversation this time around as they make the trip back to Freeside. What fills the silence is the eyebot picking up old radio signals and songs; the idealized mosaic fragments of the past in audio form. He should look at where he is going, but instead his gaze goes between Six’s face and his two companions. He isn’t the handsomest man he’s ever seen, but now that he can see color, he wants to examine every little feature of his face. He’s studied anatomy before, obviously, but this is a different type of curiosity that isn’t academic. He knows it’s curiosity due to another reason, but he’s not going to go deeper than that for the sake of his dignity.

When it’s quiet like this, his mind starts to internalize and get lost within itself. Maybe it’s because he loves engaging in talking with those like minded to him and learning, but there’s that hesitance because he gets carried away and slips out something he shouldn’t have. It’s happened several times, more when he was younger and a few times when he was training under the Followers. People disregarded him as a child talking about plasma pistols and saying the president is Richardson instead of Peterson. Now talking about Poseidon energy and its paramilitary support leads to awkward conversation and sticking out like a sore thumb because people in the Wasteland don’t ramble off stuff like that.

He’s not Wasteland born, but he’s Wasteland raised.

A gentle humming pulls him gradually out of his own thoughts, his eyes meeting Six’s. He doesn’t say anything, but his facial expression must be conveying something beyond words. As the other man stops humming, eyes blinking a few times, lips pressing together.

Before he forces out words to disregard what just happened, Six speaks. “I got a nice….ish place in Novac. You got that retired pilot friend there, yeah?” a second of fear goes down his spine, but he remembers that Six knows of her, that he helped them exchange letters. Daisy must have talked to him a little, which means she talked to him about flying. “I got two pals there, snipers. One fun to drink and talk shit with, the other about as fun as waiting in a line to get pat down by NCR caravan security.” He laughs, and Arcade has a feeling a punchline is coming. “Unless you like getting pat down by a man in uniform with pent up… _tension_.” It’s not subtle at all with that line to indicate he’s had personal experience.  

“Not really, no. I don’t find invasion of privacy without probable cause and a warrant very exciting.” Sharp words that could end this conversation on its deathbed, so he makes an extra addition to it. “Even if it’s done in uniform. An appealing one.” A halfhearted attempt at a joke ends up sending Six into a laughing fit, and he just can’t understand why because he’s not that funny unless sarcasm is involved.

“Damn,” he finally stops laughing, but his composure hasn’t returned. “You really are something else, you know that?”

“That’s quite the cliché line, and I don’t think of it as a compliment.” Because he hasn’t heard _that one_ before.

“I know, but I mean it.” He stops walking, moving closer towards Arcade. He pulls down at his lab coat’s lapels. “Something about you,” he mumbles the words, Arcade missing the other half of the sentence.

Six pulls him down enough so he can kiss him. He can feel his glasses slightly slide down the bridge of his nose, and luckily this time, the third time really is a charm.

Six doesn’t look like the romantic and poetic type found in the Followers’ library, more like a ‘drop two hundred caps at the Atomic Wrangler’ type. He also doesn’t look like the type to figure out using neuro-peptide stimulators on a nightstalker brain helps preserve its brain activity. So judging based on appearances clearly doesn’t work or give much insight to who he is under the surface.   

Arcade can’t tell if this is romantic or just a spontaneous coincidence. That or even worse, that he’d find even the most mundane or annoying things about this man romantic or charming in some way. He knows he should be thinking about kissing him, but the placement of his glasses on his nose is a minor thing that he can’t stop thinking about. He hates how he can be like this at times.

Six ends the kiss, pulling back enough so they can look at each other face to face. He lets go of the lab coat, a smile on this face that looks actually genuine. He might be smiling, too, but he doesn’t think about it too long as Six pushes up his glasses, fixing its position. “So, Novac?”

“Novac,” he parrots back because his mind is going in several wrong directions. “Right, Novac. It’s a good middle point.” He remembers now, able to recall why Six said that word. “It’d be interesting to see what other company you keep besides a cyberdog and flying robot.” 

“I have a whiskey rose, a gal who lives in a hole, a guy who won’t take his hat off, and a Miguel who isn’t really a Miguel. They travel with me on and off.” It sounds like people who would be living in the Mojave; eccentric types are drawn to this place. “You’ll meet the guy who won’t take his hat off in Novac.”

“You have quite the thing for descriptions of people.” They seem more like random facts rather than job or occupation titles. “I’m sure how you describe me to others will just be as compelling.”

“You’re easy to describe.” He’s not expecting that. “You’re my favorite package to handle.” Arcade crosses his arms over his chest, a long sigh. He’s not sure what he expected, but he should have expected a bad line like that.

“I’m kidding, but I’m not exactly lying, but I’m _kidding_ .” Six uses his arms to guard himself, but Arcade remains absolutely still. At this realization, he lowers his arms. “I guess I’d describe you as, uh…” His body language and tone makes him seem hesitant and uncertain, something he hasn’t seen in Six so far. It almost feels out of character for him, and he doesn’t wear it well. 

“We should just drop this conversation topic and make sure we get to Novac before it’s too dark.” Part of him is curious, but he knows deflection when he sees it.

Six just nods, Arcade walking in front of him this time. It seems the result of the exchange has shown a vulnerable side of the other man, one he’s not expecting. Arcade caught him off guard, and he must have poked at something raw within him.

The selectively highlighted no vacancy sign that illuminates ‘novac’ is a clear indication they’ve reached their destination point. That and the large dinosaur that looms over the motel. He knows Daisy’s room is on the second floor at the end, but that’s about it. The other residents escape his mind as he hasn’t been here longer than he’d like to admit. A pinch of guilt reminds him that he should check up on Daisy, possibly due to her association with his deceased parents.

“Take this key, upper left corner.” Six swirls the keychain on his finger, a miniature replica of the dinosaur, rotating around in perfect circles a couple of times before he hands the key off to him. “Should be some water and some brahmin jerky in there.”

“I have enough caps to rent a room for the night.” It’s not that much, and he could make a decent amount of caps by patching up some mercenaries or caravaneers that pass through here if need be.

“About that, the owner is kind of dead.” Six’s tone of voice is what sticks out the most rather than the owner of the motel being dead. He sounds like he made a wrong turn and wasted an hour walking in circles instead of forgetting someone died.

“Kind of?” Because kind of dead isn’t medically possible.

“What am I talking about? Very dead. Like a bullet right through the skull and brains splattered kind of dead. Sorry, forgot about that minor detail for a second there. So this place is in a transitional period.” Death isn’t rare in the Wasteland, but it’s unsettling Six seems so nonchalant and absent minded as he talks about a person who was shot in the head.

He can’t help but wonder if Six had a part in the owner’s death. He hasn’t seen him kill anyone, actually. Someone like him is bound to have killed someone; traveling unsafe routes by alone as a courier means protecting oneself.

“You didn’t kill the owner, did you?” It could be a mistake to ask, but he rather be blunt and get straight to the point. He’s trying to gauge Six’s personality rather than just speculate endlessly.

“I don’t shoot perfect headshots, I wish I did.” Again, the tone of the conversation feels out of place, but at least he knows Six didn’t do it. “Don’t feel bad for her. I don’t. She had a hand in selling someone into slavery for the Legion.” There’s a wave of relief, which is kind of messed up once Arcade thinks about it. The standard in the Mojave is basically ‘at least they didn’t kill an innocent person for no reason’. 

The person’s death he graphically just described did something atrocious. Six’s attitude towards her death does make more sense rather than him having little to no effect regarding the situation. He expects the worst only to get something different. Not entirely positive, but more neutral and unexpected.      

“Well, um.” He needs to change the topic.“There’s someone who collects rent still, isn’t there?”

“I guess. I think it’s the guy in the large gecko-”

“Dinosaur.” Arcade corrects.

“Large dino-thing. I haven’t paid rent. Maybe he’s scared of me or Boone’s been covering it. Don’t think it’s the latter. I made too many jokes he doesn’t laugh at and I stole his hat too many times.” Arcade recalls the earlier conversation where Six described traveling companions of his, so this Boone must be one of his.

“I’ll just-” This time he gets cut off.

“Go in my room and relax there. Glad we got that sorted out.” He pats Arcade on the shoulder, walking towards the large dinosaur with the flying robot and cyberdog in tow. 

He wants to say something, to stop him, as he doesn’t like to be forced into situations where he has no say. So he mutters a Latin idiom under his breath and sighs. At least he has a chance to get more insight into Six’s personality and behavior. He can’t really tell what they’d be like as friends and least of all as a couple. He’s been too careful, distant enough that he can pull away without too much emotional regret and attachment.

Once in the room, he notices how empty it is. It doesn’t look like someone lives here or has made it their own. The only item that stands out is a Vault 13 flask, something that’s a tourist item sold all over New California. He goes over to it, picking it up, only to notice underneath it is a Cat’s Paw magazine, issue five to be exact. He has no interest in a magazine like that, and he sets down the flask to examine the rest of the room.

The smell of the room has that Old World built smell to it along side dust and sand from outside. The bed’s not made, and like Six said, there’s some bottled rad-free water with what looks like preserved foods on a table. The footocker in front of the bed contains a ragged Vault 13 suit and a book titled Dean’s Electronics. 

So what he’s gathered, he’s a fan of Vault 13 memorabilia, decent with mechanics, reads dirty magazines to pass the time, and doesn’t make his bed after waking up. Not the most insightful, but another piece of the puzzle. 

He lies down on the bed, shifting around as he feels something under his back that is poking him. He pulls out a teddy bear from underneath him of all things. He looks admit, the first thought coming to his mind is this belonging to a child. Then he drifts to think about Six’s family, and what Doc Henry said about his various possible backgrounds. He doubts anyone descended from the Enclave would have lingering attachments to any vault. He doesn’t know the whole story of what happened those forty plus years ago, but the tales of kidnappings of entire towns and raiding vaults by metal wearing men is enough. Coupled with what Doc Henry has mentioned about the Enclave scientists and their mindset-

He tells himself he should stop going down this path of thinking, as he has enough to overthink about and analyze when it comes to the present; he wasn’t alive back then and he only knows a fraction of them.

He puts down the teddy bear, laying it on the other side of the bed. He turns his head, staring at the door, wondering when Six would step through there with a grin on his face and a bad pick up line.

His eyes open, and he sits upright with urgency. He feels like his body is in fight or flight mode, but he doesn’t know why. It could be a dream, which means he must have fallen asleep without realizing it.

He lies back down, noticing the room is significantly darker now. There’s a dim glow from a lamp, one he’s very sure he did not turn on or even touch. That means someone must have come in, probably Six. He panics for a second, feeling his pockets for the room key. He still has it, thankfully, but he must have been too busy playing detective to remember locking the door. In Freeside, leaving your door unlocked would be a mistake that could lead to a mugging or possibly death. Novac is smaller, safer, from what he knows of it.

He drinks some of the bottled rad-free water and takes a few bites of the brahmin jerky. It’s more for nutritional value and energy than for his pleasure and enjoyment. He’s been with the Followers long enough to live off a diet similar to this when stationed in poor or remote towns. After he has enough to eat and drink, he puts his lab coat on, heading out of the room. This time he remembers to lock the door after he leaves.

Arcade goes over to Daisy’s room, knocking on it several times. She doesn’t answer, which concerns him as it’s dark. He knows she spends time looking for scrap, so maybe she’s taking longer than usual to get back. The next person he should find is Six, but he doesn’t see him from the second floor. Hopefully Arcade doesn’t find himself being dumped off here, Six leaving him behind. He doubts that’s the case, and he wants to believe Six will come back any minute now.

Looking out towards the trail to the entrance of the motel is rather pathetic of him, so he looks at the stars instead. In Freeside, the view of the stars is obscured by The Strip’s lights and activity, which is a double shame since the stars are dimmer and the electricity’s not stable enough there.

He looks at the stars for a time, but his eyes end up looking at the corner to see if anyone is arriving. A few false alarms later, the dim lights of Novac let him see the soft blue glow emitting from the King’s cyberdog and two human figures followed by a metallic shine.

He goes down the staircase to greet Daisy and Six, Daisy looking in high spirits. Arcade gives a nod towards him as an acknowledgment, but after that, he focuses on Daisy.

“It’s good your friend got you out of that hole in Freeside to stretch your legs out. I was starting to think you’d only leave that place if the Followers made you.” It's gentle teasing, and both Daisy and Six look proud of themselves, teaming up against him.

“I should have visited sooner, you’re right. I get it.” He knows she deserves an apology even if she’s  isn’t asking for one. “And technically I’m here because of the Followers.”

“Well, at least you’re out exploring, and with someone who knows their way around the Wasteland, too.” Daisy pointing that out makes their contrasting differences even more apparent. He can feel a tinge of sunburn on his face, and he’s not much of explorer unless it’s for local plants or resources. Couriers on the other hand travel from place to place for a living, rarely spending too much time in a place unless they don’t have a job.

“I can still hold my own, maybe not against a deathclaw, but enough.” He hasn’t exactly shown his own skills when it comes to defending himself, but once in a while, he’s had to take out his plasma defender late at night in Freeside.

“I know that. Your mother taught you how to use that plasma defender of yours, and she was good with all types of plasma pistols.” He can hear the nostalgia emitting from her voice and words.

“Yeah, she was.” His response is less so, much more subdued.

“Plasma weapons? Fancy and shiny.” Leave it to Six to redirect the conversation when he almost nosedives it down a ditch. “You should let me borrow it so I can see what I can do with it.”

“I'm guessing you would use it to shoot at something, hopefully not at any of us.” He’s protective of his plasma defender, but he has the right to be. It’s one of the few things of his mother he has left.

“Of course not. I may not be able to do clean headshots, but I can aim well enough.”

“I saw it myself when some geckos sneaked up on us on the way back from Old Lady Gibson’s place.” So that’s where they both went. “Not as good as Moreno, but good for an untrained soldier.” That last line by Daisy makes him want to redirect the conversation.

“So, you two went there or…?” He hopes this is enough to get Daisy back on track and not start talking about anything related to the Enclave or the past.

“I went to visit Old Lady Gibson to thank her for helping Rex out.” The cyberdog barks at that, confirming those words. “I spent some time talking to her, then Eddie started acting all funny, and Old Lady Gibson told me Daisy was over in the scrapyard and might be able to help.”

“I couldn’t find anything wrong with it, well repaired, too. I told him to tell me if it says anything else funny. It’s the least I can do for him delivering my letter to you and then some.”

“I’m still wondering what’s a Chicago, and I’ll have to get a map to see where this Navarro outpost is. If Eddie’s supposed to go there, I should probably help him get there one day.” When Six says the word Navarro, Arcade looks at Daisy. She looks back at him with reassurance rather than anxiety or worry. 

There’s a dead silence after that, and Six looks at both of them trying to figure out what he did or said. “Is a Chicago something I should know?”

“No, um. It was a very large city in Illinois before the war. I’m not sure what its current state is like now, though.” It’s all Arcade can really think of to say before he comes up with a passable excuse to speak to Daisy in private. “Oh, uh, right. Daisy. I need to see that Big Book of Science you have. The Followers need some information, and I think if I remember correctly, that volume has the correct information. Do you mind me picking it up in your room?” That should work, strange pacing and odd pauses aside.

“I could give it to you tomorrow if you like. You should have fun tonight, live a little.” Maybe he’s wrong about thinking Daisy is on the same page as him.

“No, I really, _really_ , would like to see it now. Just in case I forget in the morning or we leave before dawn. I don’t want to wake you up or anything just for a minor errand.” He’s hoping this extra emphasis will make it clear they really need to talk. “And I partied enough when I was a Follower student in the Boneyard.”

“Well, all right. You can pick it up now if you insist.” Daisy smiles towards Six who doesn’t seem to outwardly show that he thinks Arcade is acting suspiciously. He’ll take this as a minor victory for now.

“I’ll go chat up Boone, or more like have a one sided conversation with him. Same thing.”

“Your key, don’t forget it.” He takes out the key to Six’s motel room, offering it back.

“You’ll be done before I will won’t-” He’s most likely a little too rough as he jams and pushes the key back in Six’s hand.

“Take it. Have fun with your soliloquy.” Exit stage left Arcade Gannon and Daisy Whitman, cut to act two, scene three. 

“So this isn’t about the book you wanted to borrow?” His acting couldn’t have been that good to let Daisy think that.

“I thought I made that rather obvious, but no. Nothing about the book.” He pauses because he knows this conversation isn’t going to be an easy one. “It’s about him, Six. You saw his eyebot, you heard him mention it said something about Navarro. You don’t think that’s strange or something to worry about?”

“I didn’t hear the audio recording. He seemed more worried about his eyebot. ”

“You think it’s just a coincidence that I met him, took him to Doc Henry, then he met you and ran into you again at Old Lady Gibson’s scrapyard?” He hasn’t heard about bounties for Enclave loyalists or associates in decades, but who knows.

“Yep. Or luck. I think it’s luck. I think he’s a positive influence on you, and he seems to really like you.” He can’t believe Daisy is so carefree like this, but he totally can believe it because it’s in her nature; she doesn’t let anything tie her down to the ground.

“Maybe you’re right.” It would be nice not to think someone’s out to get him or the remnants of the Enclave around here. “I’m thirty or so years too late to be coming up with a conspiracy theory like this.” He isn’t going to touch the latter part of what she said.

“You just worry a lot. You didn’t get to see much of the good times, that’s probably why.” Those were good times for Daisy but not most of the west coast. She flew vertibirds and did whatever it took to keep on flying. It’s a battle of gray morality he’s struggled with since he was a child. 

“It’s just, Doc Henry thought he might be descended from some Enclave scientist. I told him that was ridiculous, but…” The eyebot with an audio log is starting to shift things in Doc Henry’s theory’s favor. 

“It is ridiculous.” Daisy’s declarative statement comes so immediately and without a doubt.

“I know that, but why do you think so?” Has she gained more insight into Six than he has? In that case, he feels jealous and socially inadequate at the same time.

“Well, remember about those geckos? He ran out of bullets before he finished the last one, a real big one. So he took his gun and stabbed it like you would a spear. The way he did it, I haven’t seen someone do it in such a way in a long time. I only saw tribals in California do something like that. I think they do it like that to preserve the gecko pelt for trading.”

“A tribal?” He’s caught off guard by that theory. “So you think he’s a tribal, I think he’s from the Shi, and Doc Henry thinks he’s Enclave.” The last two are at least similar in nature. “He just… he’s schooling is closer to Vault City’s than what the Republic offers. Tribals don’t, I mean, I guess it’s possible. Or he could have just picked up that spearing technique during his travels, he was a courier.” Most tribals live in isolated regions, especially the ones out east. They aren’t too many tribal areas left in the west due to the NCR annexing them. He could say that about most of California actually.

“Does it matter?” He hears the words she says, and they echo, but he can’t seem to process and apply their meaning.

“What?” He’s confused, that lingering fear is exponentially swelling inside him.

“Does it matter where he comes from? I think it bothers you more than him.” Daisy’s right, it does seem to bother him. Six has expressed some desire to know his past, but he doesn’t let it preoccupy him. “He’s here with you now, and he’s the reason you can see colors. You’re lucky, don’t waste it.”

“He doesn’t know.” He says those words like he’s ashamed because he is. “He doesn’t know I see colors, why the both of us do.” He knows why but has pretended and lied to him, directly and indirectly. He’s not proud of himself, but he didn’t and still doesn’t know how to handle the situation. 

“Why not?” Two words tie his stomach into knots and make his guilt go into overdrive

“Because,” all the emotions, his internalized thoughts and feelings cannot be held within him anymore.This is Daisy, he can let it out in front of her, not the others. “It scares me to think how much free will do I really have over things when part of my life is predestined. I am not a Greek tragedy, despite a few similarities. I want the ability to choose, that freedom. Love is one of the few things we’re told we can choose freely or at least have options these days.”

“Most people make mistakes with it or find a lover where it works just enough. I don’t want to be told this is the perfect person for me, I want to discover it on my own. Being outright told someone is your soulmate makes you question everything not only about yourself but your soulmate. Too many questions that ruin the so called romantic moment.” He’s done that nonstop since Six touched and vomited on him.

“And what if that destined soulmate doesn’t work out? Or if they die before you even say hello or meet them? Or maybe you walked past them, never touching, never knowing you just met your soulmate, never to see them again? What then? Is the other person doomed to live a life without a love deemed good enough by a mysterious force? Plenty of people don’t find their soulmates and have fulfilling relationships. Yet there’s an unknown driving force that reminds the both of them they aren’t perfect for each other, that there’s someone else out there they’ve never met who has been labeled by a stranger to be a better lover. Or worse, someone holds out for their soulmate, waiting until death, dying alone, because they refuse to settle for less than their soulmate.”

“That’s why I’m scared and I think the function of soulmates is an evolutionary mistake. I’m surprised it didn’t end the human race before we mostly ended ourselves with nuclear missiles and war.”

“I’ll say it again. Go for it, tell him. Instead of using that brain of yours to overthink, use it as a chance to let yourself be happy and not alone. If I never took a risk, I would have never flown a vertibird and know the joy it gave me. Now it’s your turn to get that rush, to feel like I did the first time I flew in the air and felt free.”

“Thank you.” This feels like he’s an inexperienced and foolish teenager. Nevertheless, it feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders and hopefully he won’t be internalizing every single thought and emotion he has due to being fearful.

“Don’t thank me. Just let things happen.”

Doing what Daisy insists on starts with him going back to Six’s room. He knocks once, hearing the eyebot beep. He then lets himself in, and it looks like Six is getting ready to sleep. The clothes and armor he wore today are on top of the footlocker, Rex sleeping nearby it.

Maybe he should wait until the morning when they’re both well rested to carry at phase two of project soulmate.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He looks at it, knowing he’s far too tall to sleep comfortably in it. That and there’s a stench to it, most likely damp moldy cloth and blood.

Six looks at him like he’s speaking Latin, which could be possible since he’s distracted and still nervous. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He repeats, making sure he’s speaking English. “This is your place and it’s only for one night. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

“What is with you.” That should be a question, but Six ends it like he’s stating a fact. “You come in here like someone sucked all the energy out of you, and not in the good way. Then you say you want to sleep on the couch that smells like a corpse and is only good for piling armor on.” He really must be that obvious, but he hasn’t been trying to hide it.

“It’s been a long day.” It’s not technically a lie, but it is because he’s dodging the truth as per usual.

“Exactly, so we’re going to share this bed. I don’t want you having back problems and complaining all the way to Freeside on me. It’s not a good look for you or attractive at all.” Insistent and persistent describes Six right now, and it’s not in the mischievous, humorous way. “You didn’t care too much for personal space when I was going down on you so don’t start now.” The air in Arcade’s lungs gets pushed out, like something is forcing his diaphragm to reject the air in his lungs.

“You have a point, several, actually.” This is him taking a risk, not overthinking. “I rather not complain at you the entire time and have my back hurt.” 

Six blinks, probably expecting more push back, but then he looks like he’s won a grand victory. It’s still awe worthy how a single person can change the atmosphere and tone of a conversation so quickly. “I knew you’d give into me. You just can’t resist my charms and my persuasive words.”

“Nothing was charming about that exchange.” Blunt words, but they’re true. “You made valid points, and I’m not the type to go down with foolishness when I’m challenged with a good argument.” He takes off his lab coat, setting it down near the broken television.

“However I did it, I’m glad I convinced you and it worked.” Arcade has a rebuttal ready, but then he sees Six’s face. It’s that look he had back when they were talking in the Follower’s safe house. Before he felt like was intruding, stealing something that didn’t belong to him. This time, it’s different; he knows Six is smiling because of him.

The moonlight and stars makes the small motel room bright enough so Arcade can make out shapes around him. The distance between him and Six could fit another person, their backs facing each other. When the first lied down on the bed, they were side to side, staring at the ceiling. Somehow they ended up in this configuration and arrangement. Arcade tried to get himself to sleep numerous times, but Daisy’s words are ringing in his mind. That and reckless decisions of his always happen late at night.

“I lied to you. I’ve lied a lot.” It’s not mumbled to himself or said in Latin. If Six’s awake, he should be able to hear him.

“I know, and not as much as you think.” It’s a quick response. “I lied too. Does that mean it’s fair?”

“No, it doesn’t work that way. Lying to each other doesn’t cancel out what happened.” He doesn’t want to sound patronizing or even like he’s chastising him. He’s admitting his own faults, his own mistakes. “I still want to apologize as I haven’t made things easier. I thought it would make things easier. It usually does make things easier, easier for me anyway. And like I said earlier, I rather not let myself go down by my own foolishness. My idealism and wanting to make things better? Yes, but not foolishness.”

The bed creaks as they both roll over to face each other. There’s still some distance, and Arcade can’t see anything without his glasses, but that blurry blob isn’t Six’s back.

“I can see colors like you can.” If he doesn’t say these things right now, he might back out later. “Do you know what that means?”

“I do. That woman who lives in a hole, the one I told you about, she has a soulmate, too.” This revelation is unexpected. “They’re separated, though.” Hearing that makes his fears about soulmates logical. He wants to believe in happily ever afters, but when it comes to social relationships, he has had terrible luck with them. It could be self-sabotage, who knows.

“So you know what it means?”

“Yeah. I’ve known all along. The meaning behind it. I assumed you can see colors like I can. So I lied to you, but I didn’t want to go explaining the whole soulmates thing. I thought you’d assume I was high on Jet or Psycho.”

“... I would have probably, yes. Due to panic and not wanting to deal with it at that very moment.”

“Then we got to talking, and getting to know each other, and it felt right. I didn’t want to ruin it by you thinking it was all happening because we are just soulmates. I wanted things to go work out on our terms, you know? Not because something happened and now we have to accept it.”

“I know far too well as I felt, _no_ , I feel the same way.” He can’t see Six moving closer to him besides the blur looking bigger, but the bed creaks and he can feel the other’s presence and body heat. “Why did we make things so complicated?” They both laugh, but it’s not too loud and only briefly.

“Because it’d be boring and corny if we just bought into the whole thing and accepted everything as is. Nothing I’ve done so far has been boring and I’m going to keep it that way.” Six’s tone of voice changes to something much more serious.  “I just need you to do me one favor before we try out this whole happily together soulmate thing.”

“I’ll have to hear it first.” It’d be a mistake to make a promise without hearing it, and he rather not break a promise to Six or lie more.

“I got a lot of shit to take care of on the Strip, and it involves the fuckwad who shot me and a package for House.” Arcade’s heard the rumors, and their first long conversation hinted at something big. “Will you wait for me after I’m done with it all? I don’t want that stuff fucking things up. I won’t let it.”

“I’ll wait, but I’m not going to idly sit back. If you have stuff to work out, I’ll find some way to help you. It might not be much, but I’m not going to sit and do nothing.” He might have been holing himself away in the Mormon Fort, but this is different. “So I’ll promise, but only if you promise if you need help, you’ll come to me. I rather not blame myself the rest of my life if I knew I could have done something and I didn’t.”

“Got it. Deal. I promise.” Six kisses him, and it’s not exactly easy to kiss him back since Arcade can only see a bunch of colored blurs. Even so, Six follows Arcade’s lips so they align properly.

He won’t get much sleep, but he’s not going to be complaining about it. 


End file.
